


Soft Touch

by artlaw99 (yoi99)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Atlético Madrid, Cute, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16465778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoi99/pseuds/artlaw99
Summary: It all started the day Saúl Ñíguez arrived at practice with his right hand wrapped in messy bandages.Or how Saúl and Jan slowly but surely fell in love.





	1. One

It all started the day Saúl Ñíguez arrived at practice with his right hand wrapped in messy bandages.

He had hoped no one would notice and if anyone did, they didn’t act on it. Saúl knew that probably everyone had noticed but decided not to say anything and let him be. He was okay with that.

It wasn’t exactly a good day, he was tired and upset and the worst part was he didn’t know why. So, he ignored all of Koke’s jokes, Antoine’s incessant energy, Diego’s attempts of cheering him up… he ignored everyone and everything and tried to focus his attention on el Cholo’s instructions. Instead, the only thing he could think about was the incessant pain in his right hand.

After tripping over himself around thirty times, missing the goal twice as many times and getting hit on the head with multiple footballs every time he got distracted, they finally got a break. It was only when he reached to grab a water bottle that he realized his bandage was blood stained. He cursed underneath his breath. It was something to be expected, if he had to be completely honest with himself, no matter how much practice he had wrapping his wristband before games, it had become much more of an accessory than an actual protection. So, when last night he found himself sitting on the bathroom floor with his knuckles bleeding and multiple cuts around his hand he did as best as he could. He realized now that maybe it would have been a better idea to head to the hospital and had gotten stitches.

Saúl was so absorbed in his thoughts and problems, he didn’t notice Jan Oblak standing next to him.

“Saúl.”

He jumped at the voice and turned around, practically running into the goalkeeper, who was watching him curiously.

“ _Joder_ ” he cursed. “You scared the fuck out of me, Jan.”

The goalkeeper ignored him. “Are you okay?”

Saúl stared at him, water bottle in his left hand, and shrugged. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason. I guess the fact that your hand is bleeding doesn’t affect your well-being at all.” Jan said with a raised eyebrow, motioning to the midfielder’s right hand, which was currently balled up in a tight fist.

“It’s nothing.” Saúl replied quickly.

Jan stared at him for a bit, his eyebrows raised, analyzing Saúl quietly. Most of the time, he didn’t understand what was going through his mind, but he did understand how much hand injuries could hurt even when you weren’t directly using your hands.

“Come on,” Jan offered him a hand. “Let’s get that fixed.”

Not really knowing why, Saúl took his hand shyly and let Jan drag him to their locker room. Since everyone was out on the field, they had the whole room to themselves. Jan sat Saúl down on one of the benches and went to get what he needed from the first aid cupboard.

He came back seconds later with a gauze package, a clean roll of bandages and some disinfectant. Saúl was absently looking at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. With a soft chuckle, Jan crouched in front of him and gently put a hand over his, making the movement stop and Saúl's gaze to meet his for a moment before quickly looking away. 

As carefully as possible, Jan took his right hand and unwrapped the blood-stained bandage, putting it down on the floor. To say Saúl's hand looked awful would be an understatement: his knuckles were bright red, some blood running down his hand and he had some small cuts on his fingers and on the back of his hand too. Jan couldn't completely place the injury, but he was sure Saúl had punched something, even if he couldn't place exactly what. With a sigh, he placed Saúl's hand on his and carefully cleaned the blood with a clean gauze, once the injuries showed without blood dripping out of them, he used another gauze to disinfect the wounds. Saúl hissed and whimpered a bit in pain, but didn't pull away or say anything else. When the wounds were all covered in bright yellow disinfectant, Jan took the bandage roll and steadily wrapped it around Saúl's hand. He finished in less than one minute and the midfielder observed his hand, wrapped from the wrist until almost his fingertips.

“Do you have your wristband on you?” Jan asked, breaking the silence that had been filling the room since they came in.

“The one that I use in games?” The goalkeeper nodded. “In my bag, front pocket.”

Nodding again, Jan got up to get the bright red bandages and the white tape before coming back and securing them around Saúl's bandaged hand.

“All done,” Jan said proudly. “Now it's a bit less obvious.”

He stood up and stretched, sitting down next to Saúl, who was once again examining his wounded hand.

“T-thank you…” he said shyly. “It's much better now.”

Jan smiled. It was a weird sight, Saúl thought to himself, Jan was usually so serious and quiet. “Mind if I ask why is your hand cut up and bruised?”

Saúl took a deep breath. “It's ridiculous. You have to promise you won't tell anyone.” He looked straight into Jan's eyes, looking dead serious. The goalkeeper nodded. “I punched a mirror.”

And even more surprisingly than before, Jan Oblak burst out laughing.

Saúl turned to him, cheeks blushed in a mix of indignation and embarrassment. “W-what? It's not funny!”

“I know, I know. I'm sorry” Jan said, between laughter. “I just didn't know your temper had reached such levels yet.”

The midfielder opened his mouth to protest but Jan's laughter was contagious and he found himself laughing too. “I didn't know you had a sense of humor,” he teased.

Jan punched him softly on the shoulder, causing Saúl to laugh harder. They calmed down after a while, resting their backs against the lockers. Jan stood up first, offering Saúl a helping hand once again. The latter gladly took it, smiling brightly. They walked side to side to the field but when they were about to enter, Jan felt a hand grab his arm. He turned to face Saúl.

“Do you… uhm… would you like to come over tonight? I can make you dinner… y'know… as a way of saying thank you.” Saúl said, rubbing the back of his head.

“I didn't know you cooked.” Jan replied with a smile.

Saúl chuckled. “I meant buy you something or have my chef actually make you dinner, but if you want me to cook, I will.”

“So you can't cook.” Jan concluded.

“Come over tonight and you'll see,” Saúl shrugged, with a small smirk plastered on his face.


	2. Two�

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jan comes over for dinner. Saúl can't cook. It rains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've been working on it practically since I posted Chapter 1 but life has been busy...
> 
> Thank you all so much for the great feedback and all the love I've received. Glad you are liking it so far!!
> 
> Also, just a warning, but this is fairly long <3

Jan had been right, Saúl couldn’t cook even if his life depended on it.

Of course, the fact that his hand was tightly wrapped in bandages and sent a rush of pain through his body every time he moved it a little bit wasn’t exactly helping. He sighed and tried to calm himself down. The most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even trying to cook something spectacular or gourmet, but apparently boiling pasta and stir frying some vegetables were way out of his league.

Saúl glanced at the watch on his wrist: _eight thirty._ He still had an hour until Jan came over. He wondered if he would be early, some people liked to be early, _he_ liked to be early. _Fuck, what if Jan was early?_

He rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t a big deal, there was no reason to be nervous, it was just Jan, they had been friends for years, this wasn’t their first dinner together, it was nothing new. Yet he felt like something had switched between them that morning, like their friendship became much more.

Like it had happened with Fernando.

Fernando. Just the thought of him still made Saúl shiver. Was he ever going to be over him? Maybe Jan could help… Because he felt something about Jan, he was sure of that. He didn’t know what but there was something. And it was way different from what he felt about Fernando. They had connected right from the start and Saúl found himself crushing on him since practically the first day. He clenched his jaw tightly. Fernando was in Japan and even if he weren't their relationship wouldn't have gotten much further. It hadn't gone past the breaking point in three years, after all, because Fernando was married and had children and as much as Saúl was sure their love was reciprocal there were some things he wasn't willing to do. And as much as it hurt, Saúl understood.

In his third attempt of cooking something eatable for Jan before begging his chef to come back or just order something and act as if he had cooked it. Stirring the pasta, he thought about Jan and Fernando and how different they were. He tried to focus his thoughts on the good things about Jan: he was caring, his laughter was infectious, he was just a year older than him and not ten, he was good looking and kind… Saúl found that the list could go on and on and smiled dreamily. Maybe his feelings for Jan weren't so different from what he felt about Fernando after all.

He finally managed not to burn the vegetables, while the pasta looked of a decent consistency, not too soft yet not too raw (Saúl wanted to think it was al dente, but he was 90% sure it was just randomly cooked). He left it on the stove, making sure it was turned off and went to have a shower.

Standing in front of his closet, towel wrapped around his waist, he realized that maybe cooking wasn’t going to be the hardest part of the evening. Every single time he had a date (was this a date?) he struggled with what to wear. He knew it was stupid, after all, everyone who dated him had seen him in sweaty, in shorts and muddy multiple times; it wasn’t as if the first impression had been very good. Yet he still found it incredibly hard to pick an outfit, wanting to make a good 800th and something impression. In the end, it was his lack of time that made him decide on skinny jeans, an olive-green t-shirt and white sneakers. Nothing too fancy.

He glanced at his watch again: _nine thirteen._ He was about to sit down on the couch and turn on the news when the doorbell rang.

“Knew it,” he mumbled underneath his breath as he ran to the door.

Saúl opened the door. Jan was standing outside, glancing around curiously. It had been a while since he had been over.

“Find anything interesting?” Saúl asked with a cheeky smile.

Jan turned to him, surprised. He had been so absorbed in staring at God-knows-what that he hadn’t realized Saúl had opened the door and was standing next to him. The midfielder’s smile widened at Jan’s surprise, it was unintentional yet satisfying payback for earlier.

“Sorry, I hadn’t even noticed you opened the door.” Jan chuckled nervously. “And I know I’m early, but I didn’t want to get lost and be late so… here I am.”

Saúl burst out laughing while Jan stared at him in confusion. It was as if their roles inside the locker room had reversed.

“Come in,” Saúl said, stepping aside so Jan could go inside. “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize.”

Closing the door behind them, Saúl guided Jan to the living room, offering him a seat on the couch and asking if he wanted anything to drink. He tried really hard not to sound formal, but the situation had become really awkward, really fast and Saúl didn’t know how to handle it. He didn’t work well under pressure.

He brought Jan a beer as he had asked and settled for a Fanta, as much as he felt like a beer too and didn’t want to be the baby who never drank, he knew alcohol wasn’t good for his kidney.

“How is your hand?” Jan asked, as Saúl plopped down on the couch next to him. “Hope it didn’t hurt much while cooking dinner.”

Saúl shrugged. “A bit, nothing I can’t handle.”

“You don’t drink?” Jan wondered, pointing with his head at the can of Fanta in front of Saúl.

With a small sigh, Saúl went into a very deep explanation of his kidney injury, which Jan already knew about because he had been in the worst game of his life; and how, even if he was perfectly fine now, the doctor suggested against drinking. Jan nodded throughout the explanation, mainly focused on how cute Saúl look when he was focused on something, his brows furrowing into a small but cute frown.  

“Jan are you even listening to me?”

Saúl’s frown was now directed at him, more confused than mad, a bit hurt that he had stopped listening to him. In Jan’s defense, it was hard to focus on what Saúl was saying if he insisted on looking so cute.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I was just…” Jan cursed underneath his breath, he should have thought about an excuse before opening his mouth.

Saúl smiled. “Were you staring at me? Like, just staring at me?”

Jan opened his mouth to answer, but there wasn’t really anything he could say. And before he had time to think about anything, Saúl had started laughing. He looked at the younger man in disbelief.

“What else did you want me to do? The weird thing would be not staring, you are really cute.”

It was Saúl’s turn to look at him in disbelief, he practically choked on his drink and his smile froze.

“I-I’m not cute,” he huffed, trying to look tough.

Jan chuckled. “Let’s agree to disagree on that.”

Saúl opened his mouth to protest yet ended up deciding against it. He stood up and stretched, slightly glaring at Jan, who chuckled once again.

“Do you want to have dinner? Or is it too early?” He asked, glancing casually at his watch.

He knew trying to act cool around his teammates was useless, but Jan's comment echoed in the back of his mind. It reminded him of Fernando, again so different yet so similar. _He wasn't cute_ , and he didn't understand the obsession all his partners had telling him he was. He blushed at the thought of Jan as his partner. Speaking of the devil, Jan chose to have dinner as long as that was okay with him.

Dinner was something.

Saúl had completely forgot you are supposed to add salt and olive oil if you don’t want pasta to taste bland. And Jan had a lot of fun reminding him of it.

“So, I was right, you can’t cook”

Saúl pouted in response. “I’m sorry, I really tried.” He rubbed the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. “We can order something if you want to.”

Jan refused, smiling comfortingly and asking where the salt and the oil (and a lot more species Saúl didn’t know he had) were. In the end, they managed to make it taste better but Saúl swore he wasn’t going to cook next time they had dinner.

“I didn’t know there was going to be a next time,” Jan said, smiling fondly.

Saúl could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks and the back of his ears. It had come out naturally, without any second meaning to it, but he did want a next time. It wasn’t as if this time was being a terrible success, but he knew practice made perfect.

He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you want to.”

“I’d love to.” Jan replied, still smiling.

They felt silent. Saúl wondered what could be going through Jan’s mind, if he was sensing everything he was or if it was just some trick his mind. Fuck, his mind and his _heart_ were playing on him. He didn’t realize he was clutching on the fork for dear life until a sharp pain shot up from his right hand.

Which was bleeding again.

Jan didn’t say anything for a while. Saúl hoped he hadn’t noticed, just like he did back in training. It was a lost hope, but as long as Jan didn’t say anything, he wasn’t going to bring up the topic again. The locker room scene had been embarrassing, comforting but not less embarrassing. He had missed someone who cared for him that way.

So, they kept eating, in silence, with the usual football conversation here and there, asking about families, before they went back to eating again. The pain in his hand had gotten worse, too much effort if Saúl had to guess. He hadn’t said anything about it and neither had Jan. The latter probably was waiting for him to complain or ask him for help but Saúl was too proud and hard-headed to do that. He wasn’t about to say he wanted Jan to hold his hand and treat his wounds. Instead, he asked Jan if he wanted dessert. The only dessert he had was fruit, since he hadn’t been planning on having anyone over and didn’t have time to get a healthy non-fruity dessert. Jan shrugged at the question, making Saúl chuckle at his indifference. He went to the kitchen and got some fruit to chop and make a fruit salad. He was glad that his culinary knowledge at least reached the salad levels. A shudder ran through his back when he reached for and apple and felt a hand on his.

Saúl turned slowly to face Jan, who was standing _very close_ behind him. He stared at him breathlessly. _So close, so close, so close_ playing on repeat inside his head. Jan’s hand was on top of his bandaged one, whose pain had suddenly been dulled by the rapid being of Saúl’s heart.

“You are incredibly stubborn,” Jan said in exasperation. “You weren’t planning on saying anything were you?”

He meant his hand, of course, but Saúl was finding it hard to focus on anything but the practically inexistent space between him and Jan, who had him trapped in between his body and the counter. It made Saúl’s head spin.

“It’s nothing,” he replied.

And it wasn’t, not anymore at least.

“That’s what you said this morning and it wasn’t nothing.”

There was something about Jan’s tone. It was stern but concerned and comforting at the same time. Saúl thought that if he didn’t move away soon, he would have to close his eyes.

To Jan’s surprise, he didn’t receive a smart reply. Not even a “I promise you it’s fine” or even Saúl telling him to fuck off. Saúl was in a sort of daze. And Jan realized he was still holding his hand and that he had the midfielder practically pinned against the counter. He pulled away suddenly and felt Saúl take a shaky breath.

He cleared his throat as to break the tension he just realized was in the room. “Come on, we have to get that cleaned up before it gets infected and I have to take you to the hospital.”

This time, instead of taking it, Jan offered Saúl his hand and a small smile. Saúl looked like he was back to himself and, after staring at him for a bit, took the extended hand.

Jan guided Saúl through his own house (it was funny if he thought about it) to the first bathroom he found. He was about to open the door when Saúl stopped him.

“We can’t go in there,” he said worriedly.

Jan frowned at the sudden outburst. “Why not?”

Saúl sighed. “That’s _the_ bathroom… you know… where I punched the mirror yesterday…” he looked away in embarrassment. “I haven’t had time to clean it up and I didn’t want anyone to do it for me so it’s still a mess. I’ll take you to the right one.”

Saúl guided him to another bathroom where he pointed at the medicine cabinet and sat down on the toilet, waiting for Jan. Just like they had done in the morning, the goalkeeper carefully cleaned the blood from Saúl’s cuts, disinfected them and wrapped the midfielder’s hand tightly in clean white bandages. It was faster and less awkward than the first time, but the feelings had remained the same.

They went back to the living room and sat down on the couch. Time flew as they finally managed to engage in a conversation. Saúl asked Jan about Slovenia and his family while Jan asked Saúl about the Spanish national team. They didn’t ask questions about themselves, they knew enough about each other for now. The question about their sexuality remained unasked and unanswered. When Jan said it was time to go, it had started raining outside.

Pouring would be more exact to describe the weather outside. Saúl glanced outside the window: the drops of rain fell hard and loudly on the cars and the street. The complete darkness, moments ago only illuminated by the faint light of the street lights, became as clear as daylight when a lighting crossed the sky with the preceding thunder making the whole place shake.

“Maybe you should wait until it stops” Saúl said.

“It doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon,” Jan replied while looking at something on his phone.

Saúl peeked at it from behind. It was the weather app. The little clouds with lighting carried on until way past 3 in the morning. That was way too late for Jan to go home. So he did the only sensible thing.

“You should spend the night.”

Jan's head snapped upwards. “What?”

Saúl blushed instantly. He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. “I-I mean… It's really dangerous to drive in this weather, especially since it's so dark… and it won't stop anytime soon so the only sensible thing is for you to stay over. Don't worry, I have extra beds.”

Jan blinked multiple times in confusion, not believing what he had just heard. He was expecting to get somewhere with Saúl after this, not like start dating right away or whatever but dinner had been a start. And now he was going to stay over?

“I understand if you don't want to.” Saúl continued. “But I'll be less worried if you stay.”

And then he smiled, it was a small smile but it was enough to make Jan want to kiss him. Saúl's blue eyes were staring right into his and he could see the worry in them.

“I don't want to be a bother.”

“You aren't going to be one,” Saúl insisted. “We can wake up early tomorrow, have breakfast, then drive to your house to get your stuff and if it makes you feel better you can take me to practice.”

Jan sighed. It had been a lost battle since it had started. “Fine, I'll stay.”

Saúl's smile widened and that was all Jan needed to know he had made the right choice.

 


End file.
